


the fire in your kiss

by winterbitch (WinterLadyy)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dragon Jaskier | Dandelion, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Pining Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, and missing his bard, geralt is also subtly pining, geralt is jaskier's hoard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterLadyy/pseuds/winterbitch
Summary: Geralt spends way too much time thinking about Jaskier whom he hasn't seen in almost 2 years, so a rumour about a dragon haunting the mountains is a good thing. He goes to investigate and somehow gets kidnapped by a said dragon but well, the cuddles are quite nice. And Jaskier is still missing, or is he really?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 46
Kudos: 1783
Collections: Geralt is Sorry





	the fire in your kiss

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to artistica18 on tumblr for the amazing wonderful idea

When Geralt hears the gossip about a dragon residing in the mountains and attacking the travellers, he immediately headed towards the source. **  
**

He has no plans on actually killing the creature, dragons are extremely rare, extremely wise and almost completely gone. Geralt just wants to make sure that the dragon is safe, possibly in another form or at least further away from humans that may hurt them. 

He still takes the money, he’s not stupid and the lord is short, fat and annoying, but he takes only the steel sword and almost no potions, light armour. Again, Geralt doesn’t plan on killing any dragons today.

The trek up the mountain is pleasant enough, the road empty and the air cool and fresh. Geralt glances to his side and winces. Jaskier has been gone for almost 2 years and no one heard from the bard in that time. Not that Geralt looked or asked, but...he listened.

For some reason, he finds himself missing the annoying bard, especially as they usually part only for a month or two, the winter at most. So to have 2 years pass and not see Jaskier is starting to grate on Geralt’s nerves. He may hate to admit it, but Jaskier is his friend and Geralt almost doesn’t want to find out what happened to him.

After all, humans die and Jaskier is particularly annoying and Geralt isn’t sure what exactly kept him alive all those years.

Geralt curses and shakes his head, trying to physically rid himself of the thoughts, but they still manage to sneak in and make his heart hurt, even as he tries to focus on the mission.

Finally, he arrives at one of the highest peaks and finds the cove the villagers told him about. It’s a big one, deep and smelling of fire and flowers for some strange reason.

Geralt enters quietly, looking around in the darkness and for a second he doesn’t see anything.

Then his mind registers what he actually is seeing, and Geralt gasps.

It has to be the biggest dragon Geralt ever read or heard about. There’s not that much information to begin with, but Geralt knows it all and he knows that this isn’t one of the dragons mentioned in those books and bestiaries.

This one is absolutely huge, a deep red that looks black in the shadows, with eyes shining blue. Geralt swallows, suddenly weak in the knees and straightens his shoulders.

“They sent me to kill you,” he says gruffly, wincing. “I won’t.”

The dragon huffs, a purr of warm air hitting Geralt straight in the face. It smells like ash and fire, deep and hot and burning. It smells like something Geralt already knows but can’t remember.

“You need to leave.”

It (he?) stares at him for a bit longer before suddenly his shout is closer, Geralt scrambles back and then he’s being lifted carefully bu his armour and deposited between the coils of the dragon’s body.

It’s warm here and strangely comfortable but Geralt really needs to go and do something with this situation. However, it seems he won’t be going anywhere because he doesn’t want to hurt the creature and there’s no way to get out without doing it accidentally.

“Let me go!” he calls, not all that angry. Geralt’s amused and a bit confused, but it’s far from the worst situation he ever found himself in.

Of course, the dragon can still eat him or kill him without any problems, but it seems calm and content now, blue eyes radiating happiness.

It even smells like it, like happiness and calmness and home, for some strange reason. The cool mountain air mixed with the spicy smell of the dragon reminds Geralt a bit of Kaer Morhen, back when the memories weren’t tainted by blood and pain. He doesn’t like thinking about it.

“Let me go,” Geralt repeats, more calmly this time.

The dragon just huffs, curls its big body around him even more, and lays a great wing over them, promptly trapping Geralt inside.

It’s not terrible but the sword is digging into his spine and the armour isn’t the most comfortable either and it’s quite hot actually.

“I’m going to suffocate here,” Geralt mutters, used to talking to a horse.

That makes the dragon perk up and then Geralt’s being deposited back on his feet with the dragon looking at him expectantly. Geralt raises an eyebrow and the dragon points the tip of its tail at his sword.

Geralt sighs.

It says a lot about his sanity and lack of self-preservation instincts that he just puts the sword down and takes off his armour, but to be fair, he’s not that much of a danger to the creature even with them. If the dragons would want Geralt dead, he will be either way.

The actions make the creature purr in pleasure, a deep, soothing sound and Geralt lets it pick him up again, arranging himself carefully in the dragon’s hold. It’s surprisingly comfortable and Geralt decides a nap won’t hurt. When a dragon wants you to stay, you stay.

A problem arises the next day when the Witcher tries to leave, gets a tail wrapped around his waist for his trouble and a very offended expression on the scaly muzzle.

“I need to leave,” he growls, and no, those sorrowful blue eyes aren’t making his heart hurt. “I have a horse there.”

That makes the dragon pause. Then, very carefully, it nudges Geralt towards the village, but its wings spread as well. It gives him a very pointed look and Geralt kind of gets it.

“You will go there if I won’t return,” he guesses. The dragon huffs and sets down to watch him leave.

It’s a very strange situation, but Geralt comes back with Roach. He’s a bit hesitant. Roach may be tough and stubborn, but it’s still a huge dragon and...

The moment Roach sees the dragon, she lets a happy huff and they nuzzle each other, like old friends. Geralt stares. The dragon pulls him closer and he stares some more. Out of all the weird things that happened to him, this must be the strangest. 

Roach calmly walks toward a grass patch and starts to graze as if nothing’s wrong and Geralt is left with the overly affectionate dragon that is now nudging him carefully until the Witcher starts to gently pet it. It’s warm, the scales are hard and solid and it feels pretty...nice. To touch another creature.

He also can’t accidentally break a dragon so it puts him at ease.

Over the course of the next few days, Geralt tries to leave a few times. Whenever the dragon goes for a hunt, he saddles Roach and tries to leave but the horse just won’t listen. No matter what, Roach seems to suddenly become one with the ground whenever he wants to leave, and won’t move.

The dragon also doesn’t let him sneak out.

He gets a tail around his waist, a wing over his head, a big scaly body wrapped around him and it’s annoying and irritating and...not bad actually.

For some strange reason, the dragon wants his company and aside from Jaskier, it never happened. Thinking about Jaskier makes him sad though, for some strange reason, so Geralt tries to avoid it.

It’s hard.

The dragon’s eyes are hauntingly similar and sometimes, when Geralt has trouble sleeping, he will purr and almost hum a melody, something familiar and known already, from those long stretches of road between villages, with only him and Jaskier and cold nights.

“You remind me of him,” he says one day, making the dragon perk up. “My friend. I don’t know why, but you do. Puppy eyes on a dragon,” Geralt chuckles.

The dragon lets out a small snort and trots closer to him, settling on the ground next to Geralt, it’s massive head resting as close to him as possible. The Witcher leans against him and closes his eyes, letting his thoughts wander. He always found it easier to talk to animals and while a dragon is no animal, he’s not human either.

“His name is Jaskier. I haven’t seen him in some time. I...worry,” he admits with a wince. It’s not something he ever told the bard himself, but he cares. He cares and it scares him but the bard is bold and bright, burning in the darkness of Geralt’s life and it’s scary. “I fear he’s dead.”

The dragon lets out a sad croon and wraps himself around Geralt, blue eyes shining and concerned. Desperate.

Geralt chuckles and rests their cheeks together. “Never told him, but I care. My best friend, that dramatic idiot. Of all the people to love...”

His new companion snorts and cuddles him even closer, careful as ever. Geralt smiles. “I’ll find him again, don’t worry. Even if you don’t let me go, he’ll stumble upon this mountain somehow. He always does.”

Geralt falls silent after that, wondering. The dragon starts to purr and he lets it lull him into sleep again, warm and comfortable, a slither of worry clouding his thoughts.

He wakes up with the first light of dawn and the first thing he notices is that the dragon is gone.

The Witcher jumps to his feet, ridiculously worried and then his eyes fall on a familiar person sitting by the entrance of the cove, dressed in a deep red doublet. His smell is familiar - fire, flowers and chamomile. Jaskier and the dragon mixed into one.

“You know, I can’t figure you out, Geralt,” Jaskier says suddenly, not moving from his spot. Geralt frowns and comes closer, sitting next to the bard. Pieces start falling together but the image they make is almost too out there to be possible. “But somehow you’re always here when I need you.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything and they let the cold mountain air wash over them. Jaskier leans against him and he wraps an arm around the bard’s shoulders, noticing how he’s warmer than a normal human. Almost as warm as the dragon.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” he asks after a while, strangely calm.

Jaskier snorts and nods, nuzzling into his neck. “That was quite the love confession, my dear wold,” he murmurs, voice fond and affectionate. “Managed to get through that stupid curse.”

“You were cursed?” Geralt asks sharply, but Jaskier holds him still with surprising strength.

“Reduced to my instinct, nothing else left. Dreadful,” Jaskier shudders and then he’s looking at Geralt with those stunning, blue eyes. “I was trying to find my hoard and then you stumbled into me like the most precious treasure. Truly, Fate must be merciful towards us.”

Geralt frowns. “Your hoard?”

His bard shrugs sheepishly, still smiling up at him. “Things you give me. Roach. You. Simple things like that, I’m too old for riches and gold. There are far more important things in this world than that, like love and compassion and companions worth going over the edge of the world for.”

“I’m your hoard,” says Geralt, something strange and warm blooming in his chest. He can’t remember the last time someone cared about to consider him theirs. And now there’s this stupid bard, this stupid colourful bard of a dragon who just casually tells him this, smelling like affection and smiling sweetly.

All further thoughts are interrupted by a sweet, “Can I kiss you, Geralt?”

The Witcher stares for a second, shocked and overwhelmed and Jaskier’s eyes are very very bright and his scent is very very warm and he gives a little nod and it’s like sinking into a warm bath.

Jaskier kisses like he sings - passionately, with his whole heart and soul, warm hands framing Geralt’s face. Geralt sinks into it gratefully, wrapping himself around the warm bard, sinking into the kiss. It’s both slow and full of fire, spicy and sweet and Geralt licks into Jaskier’s mouth, chases the taste of him.

The other man laughs breathlessly. There’s a rustle and scaly wings wrap around them, warm as the rest of the dragon.

“My knight in the filthy armour,” Jaskier says fondly, lips red and shiny.

Geralt kisses him again and again and again. “You make a better dragon than you do a princess,” he informs his bard and enjoys hearing him laugh.

The Red Terror stops haunting the village that day, but rumours say it still flies over other parts of the Continent. Rumours say that a white wolf follows it, but no one really knows if it’s true.


End file.
